


If He So Wishes

by kuriositet



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Blood and Sand, Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, mentions of blood and dead bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriositet/pseuds/kuriositet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron wanders through Batiatus's villa after the massacre and finds something unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If He So Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble written for the prompt "Unbind me."

The villa is covered in blood. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling is covered in red, still warm, Roman blood. Agron’s hands tremble as he listens to Spartacus speak of what they have done, what is just, and what they have yet to do, make Rome tremble before them. He clutches the cup in his hand tighter, yet cannot bring himself to taste the wine. Its sweetness is fitting of a victory, yet he has suffered loss greater than anyone in the villa.

Those that have gathered disperse in different directions, following Spartacus and Mira’s orders in collecting things that may be of use to take with them, things that are easy to carry and things that cannot be traced back to Batiatus’s villa if they need to sell them. Crixus leads the gladiators back down to the ludus to raid the weapons storage to see every man able to sword.

Agron yet stands frozen, cup of wine clutched in hand. He looks up to meet Donar’s eyes from across the room, but instead of allowing his friend to ask of Duro or offer condolences, Agron turns and leaves. He has not seen much of the villa before, only the main room during celebrations where the gladiators were brought up as entertainment or decoration. He walks down a corridor now, abandoned but for the lifeless bodies still cooling on the floor.

He walks past a doorway and hears a noise and only doubles back in hopes of having found another Roman to send to the afterlife. He is absent sword, but that has never stopped him before. 

It is no Roman in the room, but a slave. It is a boy Agron does not recognize, yet his face is one Agron will not soon forget. He stands behind a table where he has presumably been crouching down to hide. He is so small it is no wonder anyone who may have searched through this room before missed him.

“Is it over?” he asks. “Aurelia, when it started, she told me to hide.”

“It is. We prepare to leave.” The boy nods, but does not look reassured. “Here,” Agron holds out his cup of wine. “Have drink and see heart restored.”

“Gratitude.” The boy takes it and drinks eagerly and, it may be a trick of the light but, some color seems to return to his cheeks.

“What is your name, little man?”

He hesitates a moment before saying, “Nasir,” as if another name wanted to be spoken.

“Well, Nasir,” Agron says, eyes catching on the ugly black collar around the boy’s neck. “You are a free man now.” He reaches out and curls his fingers around the edge of the collar, knuckles just barely brushing Nasir’s skin, and tugs it off. “Never again shall you slip collar round neck.”

Nasir gets a thoughtful look on his face but before he can speak, they hear footsteps coming and Spartacus enters the room. “Have you yet found anything of worth?”

“Another slave,” Agron says, nodding his head toward Nasir.

“Another free man to take up cause against Rome,” Spartacus responds, smiling. Nasir does not look pleased to hear it, Agron can see it in his eyes, a clever mind thinking, analyzing, calculating. “If he so wishes,” Spartacus adds, then turns to Agron. “We are ready to leave. Have you said your goodbyes?”

“I have.” He tries not to think about dark eyes forever frozen in a proud smile.

“Goodbyes?” Nasir asks when Spartacus leaves the room ahead of them.

“My brother.”

“Is that what Spartacus’s cause is? To die at the hands of Romans?”

“It is to be free. To live and die as free men.” Agron towers over the boy, yet Nasir does not appear threatened. “As my brother and I did before.” Agron steps back and turns to leave the room.

“What difference does it make? To die free or not?”

“It makes all the difference.”


End file.
